Renegades Of Wolfenvald, Book Two of The Adventures of Sarah Coppernick

by SJB Gilmour

  Soon they had quite a collection. Sarah would sniff the snow until she knew where one of the little purple-spotted mushrooms was and Mel would dig it out.

  It was this sniffing that became Wallop the Great’s undoing. Without really realising where she was, Sarah had found herself very close to the spot where she’d last met Wallop. Of course back then, she was nowhere near as experienced nor as confident as she was now. Back then, she had actually been frightened and if it hadn’t been for Uncle Benjamin, she would have been terrified. When she smelled Wallop’s odour, she began to smile. She nudged Mel with her snout.

  ‘Here’s something else,’ she yipped.

  Mel sniffed. To a human nose, the smell of hobgoblin is very similar to the smell of troll. Both reek of unwashed socks, only the scent of troll has a touch of rotten meat thrown in. Hobgoblins, and Wallop was no exception, smell very much like someone who hasn’t taken a bath or shower for about a year.

  ‘Troll?’ Mel was alarmed.

  ‘Hobgoblin!’ Sarah yipped back. ‘Let’s have some fun.’ She rushed into the scrub.

  Poor Wallop didn’t even have time to run. The Golden Mane werewolf simply pounced on him and dragged him by his smock out into the clearing.

  Much to the amusement of his followers who were scattered deeper in the scrub and watching the activity with great interest, Wallop abandoned any pretence of being powerful and mighty. He screamed. He wailed. And, just like the last time, he struggled so much that his smock ripped and he fell to the snowy ground, clad only in his loincloth.

  Sarah put one massive paw on his chest and held the wailing little fellow down in the snow so Mel could get a better look. Wallop was almost completely covered with matted fur. He had bat-like ears and a pig-like nose. He was also about sixty centimetres tall — almost as tall as Ronny the gnome, and very easy for a wolf the size of a small donkey to hold down.

  ‘What?’ Mel demanded.

  ‘I’m not a what!’ screamed Wallop. ‘I’m Wallop! Wallop the Great!’

  Mel wrinkled her nose at his smell. ‘You mean Wallop the great unwashed!’ She turned to Sarah. ‘How did you know what he was?’

  Sarah shook her head, making her ears flap which was the wolfish way of shrugging.

  ‘We’ve met before. He’s the one who explained what kind of hex Miranda put on me.’

  ‘Wallop the Great Unwashed!’ cried Wallop’s former followers from the bushes. They howled with delight at Wallop’s predicament and new moniker.

  Wallop proceeded to tell Sarah and Mel exactly what he thought of them, using very colourful language. This of course only elicited more jeers from his fellows.

  Sarah sniffed him and furrowed her brow with disgust. She didn’t remember him smelling so badly when she had first met him.

  ‘You were afraid, Golden Mane,’ whispered Wolfenvald. ‘Your instinct was not focused upon his scent then. Now that you are less afraid, your senses can analyse him more acutely.’

  Sarah understood immediately. Had she been scared of the strange little fellow now, she would have been more interested on how to escape or fight him instead of noticing things less important like his lack of hygiene.

  ‘See what you’ve done!’ cried Wallop. ‘You horrid werewolves have to ruin everything!’

  By now several of the hobgoblins in the bushes were falling over themselves with laughter. A few even rolled from their hiding places to lie on their backs in the snowy clearing.

  ‘Wallop the Great Unwashed!’ They howled and shrieked. It didn’t matter that they were every bit as smelly as Wallop was. Nor did it matter that much that Wallop was now all but naked. Wallop was obviously terrified by one of the very creatures he claimed to have bested. Wallop’s claim of might and power was a sham.

  As he watched his former cronies finally make their way back into the forest, still shrieking with laughter, Wallop let out another stream of profanities at Sarah. Hearing the noise from the campsite, the others came rushing into the clearing.

  Sarah let Wallop go. Instead of retrieving his ruined smock, he simply lay in the snow, wailing.

  ‘Everyone,’ Sarah greeted them, wagging her tail. ‘Meet Wallop, the Great Unwashed!’

  Ronny the gnome stomped over to Wallop and helped him to his feet. He too wrinkled his nose at Wallop’s odour.

  ‘Well, Wallpole, the Great Unwashed, I’m Ronald Mason, the gnome. Master Brewer and Illusionist.’ Ronny, like the others, was slightly inebriated and his speech was a little slurred and overly florid.

  ‘It’s Wallop!’ Wallop grated, pushing himself away from Ronny. ‘And I don’t care who you are, you wine-soaked burrower! This is my forest. Go away!’

  ‘Steady-on, Wallpop,’ Uncle Robert told him with a grin and wagging tail. ‘It’s not all your forest surely. How would you defend it, eh? The rightful owners of any range are the most powerful predators who live in it. That means the local wolves, not smelly little hobgoblins.’

  ‘It’s Wallop!’ Wallop shrieked, forgetting his terror for outrage. ‘Wall - Op!’

  Now James joined in the joke. ‘Okay, Wopple. What are you doing here?’ He then belched loudly.

  Wallop appeared about ready to explode. Then he stopped, staring at James in absolute terror. He had been scared when Sarah had picked him up but now he was petrified. If his smell was bad before, it suddenly became a whole lot worse as he soiled his already filthy loincloth.

  Screaming in absolute horror, Wallop the Great Unwashed (and now Wallop the Pooey), bolted into the bushes as fast as his stubby little legs could carry him.

  James blinked. ‘What did I say?’ he asked nobody in particular as Wallop’s screams of horror faded into the night.

  Mel grinned at her cousin. ‘Well, we’d probably all run from you too if we didn’t know you.’

  James was about to retort when Benjamin padded up to him.

  ‘Hold on,’ he growled. ‘That little hobgoblin could have been onto something. They’re great hex-readers because they can see straight to the primary objective of any kind of enchantment. That Wally or whatever his name was, got spooked by something.’ He sniffed James. ‘You still smell like snake. What kind did you get bitten by again?’

  James shrugged and burped again. ‘I thought it was a copperhead. It was green and mottled. Copper turns green, so that’s what I thought it was.’ He looked over at Ronny. ‘Got any chips in your bag? I’m getting the munchies.’

  ‘Umm James,’ Mel said slowly. She set her basket of winterooms down on the ground. ‘Copperheads are brown. The only green snakes in Victoria are carpet pythons, and they won’t bite you. Trust me, a carpet python wouldn’t be going anywhere near your plants. It’d be in a tree somewhere, trying to catch a bird, or hanging around rocks looking for lizards or rodents.’

  ‘She’s right,’ Angela told her unsteady cousin. ‘Show me your leg.’

  James blinked again. ‘It doesn’t hurt,’ he muttered. He rolled up his pants leg. ‘Can’t be that bad—’ He paused, his eyes going wide. Everyone’s eyes went wide. A patch of skin around the bite on James’ calf just above the ankle was now covered in snake scales.

  James let fly with a string of curses that left Wallop’s profanities to shame.

  ‘Don’t be such a baby,’ Angela told him. ‘Hold still.’

  James did as he was told, but still muttered obscenities under his breath. He was very angry about his new condition.

  Angela muttered a few short spells and suddenly the scales on James’ leg began to glow with green light. Angela made a disgusted sound.

  ‘I was afraid of that,’ she muttered. ‘It’s demonic. No wonder the hobgoblin bolted. C’mon, cousin. Up to the circle.’

  ‘Demonic?’ Sarah and James both burst out.

  ‘What sort of demon?’ James demanded.

  ‘Where’s it from?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘Is it possessing him?’ Melanie asked.

  ‘From which hell?’ asked Uncle Benjamin.

  Angela shrugge
d. ‘I don’t know, I don’t know, yes, and I don’t know. James, we need to get you up to the circle. I was going to wait until morning to contact the spirits, but I may as well do it now. Come on.’

  James blinked at her, suddenly much more sober. ‘What for? Can’t you just… you know… do your necromancer thing?’

  Angela shook her head. ‘Maybe, but I’m not even going to try so close to Castlerigg without express permission from the spirits. If we’re lucky, they’ll let me perform the rites and you’ll be able to keep your leg.’

  ‘Well, why don’t we just go somewhere away from their territory?’

  Angela looked at her cousin as though he was just a bit dim.

  ‘Really? You want me to take you into a portal while you’re infected with a demon bite? Coming here through a portal is probably what let the infection spread so rapidly.’

  James thought about this. ‘Okay,’ he admitted. ‘Guess we better go see the spooks. They did summon us after all.’ Then he looked a little frightened. ‘You said lucky. What if I’m unlucky?’

  Angela shrugged. ‘Won’t be the first amputation I’ve done.’ She withdrew one of her daggers and poked its sharp point into his thigh just above his knee. ‘Knees are tricky, but if I can separate the joint just about here—’

  James threw up his hands in submission. ‘Okay, I get it!’ He rolled his eyes and muttered something about his cousin being bloodthirsty.

  While Angela and Susan took their cousin up to the circle of stones, Mel’s father was shaking his head wryly at Sarah and Mel.

  ‘Winterooms?’ he chided them. ‘And just what were you going to do with them?’

  Mel shrugged. ‘C’mon, Dad!’ she protested. ‘It’s not like I was going to start making mummies. I thought James might want them.’

  David shook his head and picked up the basket.

  ‘You know how he feels about un-cultivated products. These could be hybrids. You have no idea what kind of properties they might have.’ He gave Melanie a disapproving look. ‘And what if he didn’t want them? How were you going to dispose of them? You know you can’t just leave them lying about. Too dangerous. What if a mortal found them? One curious human, and the next thing you know, it’s the zombie apocalypse of Cumbria.’

  Mel and her father continued to bicker all the way back to the campsite. Before she followed them, Sarah made sure to pee a few times on different trees, just to prove a point to Wallop. This forest most definitely wasn’t his.

  At the campsite, she found Uncle Robert, Aunt Roberta and Uncle Benjamin all lounging by the fire Ronny was tending. Mel and her father could still be heard arguing inside one of the tents. After a few moments, Sarah’s keen wolf ears picked up Angela calling to her from the circle of stones.

  Followed by the Silver Shroud and two Brown Coats, she loped up to greet Angela, Susan and James. All three were now stark naked and standing in the very centre of the circle.

  ‘Thank you, everyone,’ Angela said crisply. ‘Take point please.’

  The four werewolves obediently sat at points to the north, south, east and west of the three humans. They didn’t need any diagram or compass. The mind of a werewolf is incredibly keen. No matter where she is, Sarah can always feel exactly which way is north.

  Angela and Susan then began an ominous necromantic rite in Ancient Celtic. Before long, thirty-eight spectres, one for each stone of the circle, appeared around them. The spirits were vaguely humanoid, though their gender and facial features were impossible to make out. Their eyes glowed a sinister red.

  One drifted towards Angela. ‘What is your need, necromancer?’

  Angela bowed respectfully to the spirit. It is not wise to risk being overly familiar with such beings.

  ‘The Flower Man,’ she introduced James to the spirit. ‘He carries a demonic infection. I would rid him of it. I don’t wish to offend the caretakers of this place by conducting rites or opening passages to other planes so close to their territory without their permission.’

  The spirit considered this for a moment. It stooped and peered at James and then his leg. James complied by holding his leg up for the spirit to see more easily.

  ‘This is wicked!’ the spirit rasped. Its glowing red eyes flared in anger. ‘This must not be allowed!’ Then it turned to Angela and raised one ghostly arm as if bestowing a blessing. ‘You have our permission, necromancer. Perform your rite. The Flower Man has a task to perform. Attacks of this kind must not be allowed lest he succumb before his destined time.’

  ‘Who’s behind it?’ James asked the spirit.

  ‘We know not, Flower Man. All we can tell you is what we see in the stars. This is but one attempt to thwart the pack of The Golden Mane. Be wary. More will surely follow.’ It drifted back to its place in the circle.

  The first spirit then waved at Angela. ‘Your task, necromancer.’

  Angela and Susan then paid their attention to James. Susan intoned a short spell and an evil green mist wafted out from James’ leg, taking with it the scales from his skin. Once the mist and the scales were completely free and hovering in the air, Angela took over. She held her palms together for a moment then drew them apart. Between her hands, a golden glowing orb grew bigger and bigger as she spread her hands out wider and wider.

  ‘Confiniouso!’ she commanded, using the Magaeic command to activate a containment orb. The green mist suddenly appeared inside the glowing orb. Where it had been still and seemingly calm outside of the orb, inside it swirled angrily.

  The spirit beside Angela then summoned eight of its fellows. The spectres drifted out to take up nine points in a circle with Angela, James and Susan just outside of it. A bright white light of power lit up from each spirit to create a nonagram on the snow. The light grew stronger until a shimmering portal appeared.

  ‘Cast out the wickedness, necromancer,’ the spirit intoned.

  Angela obeyed and hurled the glowing orb directly into the portal. Once it disappeared, so did the nonagram and the portal with it. The eight other spirits drifted back to their positions at their stones.

  ‘It is done,’ the spirit announced firmly.

  ‘Phew!’ whistled James. He reached down and rubbed his leg. Where the green scales had been, now there was fresh pink skin. He nodded at the spirit. ‘Thanks chief!’ He turned to Angela. ‘Where’d you send it?’

  ‘The same hell I sent Miranda to last year.’

  ‘Was that where the demon originated?’

  Angela shrugged. ‘Could be. You know what demons are like. They might not be able to get to this plane very easily, but that doesn’t stop them jumping from hell to hell willy-nilly.’

  James considered this for a moment, then shook his head and shivered.

  ‘Oh well, no harm done.’ He tossed a very casual salute to the spirit.

  The spirit took James’ casual manner it its stride then focused its attention on Sarah.

  ‘Golden Mane, we would speak with you.’

  She felt a shiver and involuntarily shook herself. Then she padded up to the spirit, making sure to keep her hackles from rising. Not knowing what to say, she simply stood with her head cocked to one side.

  The spirit seemed amused. ‘You received our summons then?’

  Sarah wagged her tail. ‘Yes.’ She wasn’t quite sure just how to address the ghost.

  The spirit gestured to Susan. ‘Come forward, Mother of The Last.’

  Susan glowered but stepped up to the spirit and bowed.

  ‘I don’t like the implication of that,’ she stated.

  The spirit nodded. ‘Yet it is true. You shall bear no more daughters.’

  Susan blushed slightly.

  ‘However, your continued efforts to conceive another child are not without success.’

  Now Susan blushed deeper. Then she raised her face and stared at the spirit. A desperate hope was in her eyes.

  The spirit nodded again. ‘This is why we summoned you, Mother of The Last. Should you remain with this band, your so
n will not survive to be born.’

  Susan looked down at her abdomen and placed one hand on it gently for a long moment. Then she looked back at the spirit angrily.

  ‘Well I’m not going to just sit about helplessly!’

  Now James clapped one hand on his cousin’s shoulder.

  ‘Never mind, Suz. We’ll find something for you to do.’

  ‘Like what?’ Susan complained bitterly.

  James shrugged. ‘We’ll come up with something,’ he promised.

  Susan’s eyes were haunted though her hand remained on her belly.

  ‘I bet you will,’ she muttered.

  The spirit observed this exchange dispassionately. Then it nodded at Sarah.

  ‘Golden Mane, the time has come for you to retrieve the other piece to the amulet you carry. There is one who keeps it safe and will deliver it to you on His wedding day. Take this Marked One beside you—’

  ‘Who?’ Sarah interrupted.

  The spirit tolerated her interruption, barely. ‘This necromancer, sister to the Mother of The Last is The Marked One. ‘Tis nearly a full moon. One the eve of the new moon, two days hence, take her with you and He who holds the missing part of the Star of Planes will relinquish it as His gift of betrothal. To find Him, you must go to the land liberated by the great king of Macedonia. Stand tall up on high with Gog to the south and Magog to the north.’

  Sarah didn’t understand this at all. She would have liked to ask more questions but thought better of it. Frustrated, she whined a little in confusion, and wagged her tail nervously. It swished in the clear snow, making an odd crunching sound. She remembered Nathan the bookwyrm telling her that the pieces of the Star of Planes needed to be combined somehow before they could be used, only nobody had succeeded in doing so.

  ‘Once I get it, how do I put the bits together?’ she asked before she could help herself.

  The spirit tilted its shadowy head to one side much as Sarah did when she didn’t understand something.

  ‘That we do not know, Golden Mane. If Wolfenvald cannot provide the answer, perhaps it may guide you to one who can.’